A Can A Day

Marta, a fourteen year old girl from Kansas is trying to save the life of a kid who lives with his mother and father, alcoholics.
Soup cans can cost up to five cents and every little piece counts. To save Tommy, this boy, she will have to collect over two hundred cans so he can go to The Preacher's House, a home for young boys in need of a family.
In this book, you will see the true meaning of friendship, hope, and courage, all wrapped up by a world changing event.

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2. Chapter Two

Mom and dad were in the kitchen talking about the poverty and Keith. Mom was twirling the wooden soup spoon around the black pot and Dad marinating some chicken on the grill. Emma was drawing a lady bug in her bug coloring book and I was sitting in my bedroom, just there, wondering. How could a man just be dropped on the street like that? And children, are they the same? 

"The Preacher's House is where my friend Shelia works. She said they are adding an edition to the back to expand more living space for these people." mom said. She continued to talk, and that's when I was hooked.

Dinner was pretty quiet, Dad raking in those marinated chicken, Mom taking some soup from the pot, and Emma working on her chicken and carrot sticks. And I was there, slowly allowing the spoonful of soup that I guessed was vegetable.

It was my job to load and unload the dishwasher. I did this quickly, placing a Cascade tablet into the dishwasher and turning it on.

"Mom, I'm leaving, I'll be back later!"I yelled, opening the front door.

"Okay, be back by seven!" Mom yelled back.

I took my bike down to Preachers Avenue, a long avenue that extended from Gardendale Avenue down to Rickers Avenue. And Gardendale was at least seven blocks down from my house.

After a half hour bike ride, I made it to The Preacher's House. I noticed a contracting company sign on the front lawn, and it read:

MARGO LAKE CONTRACTING, CO.

OR CALL BILL, NUMBER ACCESSIBLE FROM CONSTRUCTION SITE 

So mom was right, there must be new construction. I walked up the concrete path to a brown door. I opened it gently and it creaked like it hadn't been open in years. A woman with brown short hair was sitting there on the computer. She looked at me.

"Hello, ma'am, how may I help you today?" the woman asked.

"Um," I hesitated, "I was looking to see if I can have a knowledge leaflet, if possible." I asked.

Her name was Sharon because the black name tag with a gold strip around it read Sharon, Secretary.

She handed me a leaflet, and I looked around the main office. It was supper modern; white couches, coffee tables, big windows for a view of the park designated to the residents, and a huge painting of a house that was beautiful.

"Thank you, ma'am, have a good day." I said.

"You too, sweetie." Sharon whispered and went back to work.

At home, i read through the leaflet. It said how to qualify for a room, how to become a sponsor, and how to help, as well as fees, activities and monthly job openings.

I searched all night for the one topic, the map, and there was nothing, but new construction to come in the summer.

I tossed it in the garbage can. Not what I needed.

 

     

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